The Curse of the Ducky Trunks
by TFPC
Summary: Short DMC pieces. Commonly quite ridiculous. Beware of spoilers and references to ducky shorts.
1. The Curse of the Ducky Trunks

**The Curse of the Ducky Trunks**

Maybe it was just her maternal instincts talking, but Eva couldn't help but think that her two five-year-olds were the cutest things this side of the Hell Gate. It was cramping her style; just yesterday, Vergil had emptied all of her spare holy water into the blender with a family of field mice and made himself a highly dangerous smoothie that somehow got smeared all over the walls of the house in a childish parody of her warding symbols. Eva had only managed to shout at him for thirty minutes before she relented in the face of his cuteness.

Now, though, she had discovered a way to punish him without feeling incredibly guilty. Vergil was probably going to hate her when he got to high school. Actually, it looked like he hated her right now, if the way he was looking at her clothing selection was any indication.

"This," Vergil pronounced, "isn't very dignified, Mother." He picked up the swimming trunks and looked very disapproving. Eva was charmed.

Dante looked at Vergil's trunks and then at his own. "Mom, I want some like Vergil's!" he whined.

Vergil gave Dante a freezing look. "That's because you're stupid," he said. "These aren't cool."

Dante shot him an incredulous stare. "But they're _ducks_, Vergil," he pointed out. "They can fly and stuff. You can't get cooler than that."

"When I grow up," Vergil said slowly, "I am going to remind you that you wanted ducky trunks and then your girlfriend will laugh at you." Both of them paused and tried to figure out how this was supposed to be embarrassing, since girls had cooties and last week, both of them had vowed to avoid those of the female persuasion no matter what.

"Fine," said Dante. "I don't want your stupid trunks. Have fun with your duckyshorts, Vergil!" He laughed and ran off to his room, waving his red trunks (covered in bullseyes) over his head. Vergil watched him go with a frown on his chubby little face. Then he glared at Eva reproachfully, as if to say, "You made him laugh at me! How could you!"

Eva smiled sweetly back and remarked, "You know, only a _girl_ would make this much fuss over what to wear to a public swimming pool."

Vergil looked outraged. "I'm not a girl!" he declared and disappeared down the hallway, adorable duck-covered trunks in hand.

When she heard the boys squabbling down the hall, Eva stealthily tucked a camera into her duffel bag and zipped it up. After all, why make the effort if she couldn't have physical evidence afterward?

* * *

Several years later, Vergil found himself buying swimming trunks with ducks all over them without quite knowing the reason why. Not only did he not swim for pleasure, ducks just weren't a very dignified image to have printed all over his ass. He eventually dismissed it as something only a female would worry over, and the trunks went into his closet, never to be seen again—until he was suddenly seized with the urge to wear them the night he revived the Temen-ni-Gru.

* * *

"I can't believe you made me come with you," muttered Nero as he skulked behind Kyrie in the baby department of the store. Kyrie just giggled as she sifted through all the annoyingly cute baby outfits on the rack. In an effort to remain cool, Nero shoved his hands in his pockets and was about to stroll off when something…intriguing caught his eye. He stared at it for a good twenty seconds before he shook his head violently and avoided looking in its direction.

"I did _not_ just have the urge to buy ducky shorts," he hissed at himself under his breath. "I refuse to lower myself to that level. No duckies. It's not manly. Everyone will laugh at me." He followed Kyrie out of the section and didn't look back.

His Devil Bringer twitched sadly.


	2. The Day Dante Wore His Birthday Suit

_Author's Note: Haha, the previous chapter had 666 words. Coincidence? Probably not. It was based off an image I have of Dante, Lady, and a super mysterious figure falling off his boogie board wearing trunks with duckies all over them. The previous chapter is also supposed to have a piece of art that goes with it, but the artist hasn't finished it yet._

**The Day Dante Wore His Birthday Suit**

While generally Vergil was none too pleased with what his twin did on a daily basis, today he was even less pleased than usual; for today, Dante had decided to go au natural. Which, in Danteworld, meant that he was walking around the house completely in the nude and everything would be just peachy. Luckily, Vergil noted when he took a quick look around, Mother was not yet out of the shower, which gave him time to try to stuff Dante into at least a pair of pants. That in itself would be pretty hard, considering the two were evenly matched in strength and tenacity.

"Dante!" Vergil hissed, poking his head into the kitchen. Dante twisted his head to stare over his shoulder. "What are you doing, you idiot? Put some clothes on before Mother sees!"

Dante looked annoyed and took a swig of the soy milk he had found in the fridge. Wiping his mouth, he said, "What's wrong with going naked?" He turned the rest of his body around and posed artistically. Vergil grimaced and pointed.

"That, dear brother, is what's wrong," he said. Dante glanced down at himself and then back at Vergil. "You're not wearing anything and Mother probably doesn't want to see it!" Vergil clarified. "I know I don't want to see it!"

Dante flexed. "What's wrong, Vergil? Making you queasy? I don't see why—you see it every morning in the mirror, you know. We're twins, after all." He patted a skinny bicep and went back to the soymilk, this time poking a hole in the bottom and drinking it through that. Vergil knew that it would be long gone by the time breakfast started and sighed in resignation; soymilk was the only milk he and Dante could drink because both of them were lactose intolerant, and Mother only bought it once a week, usually after Dante drank it all in one go like he was now. Acknowledging Dante's victory over him for now, Vergil retreated to the living room to plot.

First thing's first: How to get Dante into a pair of boxers. Vergil stealthily slipped into first the garage and then to Mother's spellshop. Like a shadow, he slid into the living room and held his breath, listening. Sure enough, he could hear Dante shifting his weight on the couch; Dante always went to the couch after drinking all of the soymilk because it made him sleepy. All it would take was a little push—or, Vergil thought, looking down at the squishy jello-gem in his hand, a little spell—to make him start snoring for at least ten minutes. Ten minutes was all Vergil needed for his plan. Silently, he padded up to the back of the couch and concentrated on the jello-gem.

When Dante started snoring, he smirked and peeked over the back of the couch. There was his twin, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Perfect. Vergil's eyes drifted down to Dante's waist. Even better. He grinned and shook the can of hot pink spray paint he had filched from the garage. A few coats of paint later, he returned the gem and the paint to their proper places and started lurking in the kitchen, waiting for Dante to wake up.

He wasn't disappointed; when Dante entered the kitchen looking stormy and wearing a pair of blue boxers, just in time for Mother to come sailing in smelling of flowers and mouth-wateringly delicious fruit, Vergil had to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing. Dante narrowed his eyes and mouthed, 'I'll get you back'.

"Dante, go put some clothes on," said Mother when she looked them both over. "You'll get cold otherwise."

"No, I won't," Dante said, pouting.

"At least put some pants on," she said and sighed. Dante grumbled but left and came back wearing pants. Vergil tried not to gloat too openly at his victory.

To his immense dismay, Dante had evidently decided that going shirtless was just as good as going naked, and Vergil had to put up with seeing him preen and pose constantly in the mall as pretty teenage girls hovered around him, cooing over how adorable he was. It was sickening. After a week of this behavior, Vergil snuck into his bed and drew all sorts of embarrassing things on Dante's chest in permanent marker. Dante finally got the hint and wore a full set of clothes in case Vergil decided to vandalize his flesh again.

Vergil was relieved until Dante found the perfect t-shirt: white cotton with a naked torso airbrushed on. He started collecting matches.

When Mother saw the look Vergil gave Dante's new shirt, she only rolled her eyes. "And so the war continues," she muttered.


	3. In Thunder Our Voices Drowned

Author's Note: Yes, there will be more (coming as I write them, no beta-reading, etc), and I'm sorry you enjoyed the other stories. Maybe you'll enjoy this one and blame me some more. I'm also writing a rather long one that will be going into this story. I hope I manage to finish it. Until then, have fun with this absolutely pointless story!

* * *

**In Thunder Our Voices Drowned**

* * *

Like a shark in its soundless and watery world, he wove fluidly in between shadowy shapes that seemed to bend and slide as he went. There, in the deep and the dark, he knew his prey was waiting. Lightning ripped through the sky and the dark objects around the room seemed to drift along under their own power in the flash, like someone caught in the flash of a camera. Silently, and reminding himself to look up more words in the thesaurus that mean 'like a ninja', he crept up to his target and waited until the next flash of lightning revealed no movement. His legs tensed. He held his breath. The time to strike was now.

He pounced!

The springs of the mattress creaked quietly in protest at his energetic landing. Mother rolled over in her sleep and squished him almost as soon as he hit the comforter. Carefully, he wriggled out from under her and snuggled up against her side. A few minutes later, there was another soft thump and the bed shifted as a small weight moved around to Mother's other side and settled there. Dante poked his head up and met Vergil's steady gaze. Thunder rolled through them and their heads swiveled first to look out the big picture windows on one wall, and then back to each other.

Vergil placed a finger on his lips and raised both eyebrows high so that they disappeared under his bangs. Dante nodded back and the two settled down to wait out the storm on either side of Mother, who slept soundly despite all the noise The Big Outdoors were making; Dante envied her, because he and his twin were too sensitive to sound and both of them hated thunderstorms with a passion, especially at night. Mother had told them that one day they would grow tougher and learn to tolerate even the biggest of noises, but Dante didn't believe her.

There was a bad moment when there was a lot of thunder all at once; when it was over, he found himself battling Vergil for space to throw his arms around Mother's waist.

"Vergil!" he hissed in a furious whisper. "My spot! No!" They sparred for another second or so before they managed to claim their own area to cling to. Mother shifted slightly, giving them more room, and the two settled back down to stare at each other with wide blue eyes.

Once in a while, one pair of eyes would slowly slip shut, only to be startled awake by another cracking boom from the sky, and they would stare across Mother's stomach into an identical pair, which would be wide with concern. The thunderstorm seemed to go on forever. Vergil finally got the idea to crawl under the covers and try to muffle the noise by sticking his head between Mother and the mattress. Dante voted to make a miniature pillow fort by stealing all of the pillows (including the one Mother's head was on) and piling them so that there was a big fluffy pile covering Mother's stomach and him. It looked like a marshmallow monster was eating her.

A particularly close boom started the two of them shivering and the bed shaking. Eva finally woke up feeling like she had gone to sleep lying on a large rock and the covers were trying to smother her. Carefully, she felt around her right side and discovered the rock under her was connected to a warm little body, which moved and made that sharp 'Hmm!' noise that she associated with Vergil. On her other side, the pile of pillows twitched.

Carefully, she withdrew her hand from Vergil and laid her head back. "Oh no," she said dryly, "my bed's infested with bedbugs. Who am I gonna call?"

"Imma suck your blood," came a high voice on her left, muffled by the pillows. Eva sighed and mentally added another item to her list of 'Guaranteed ways to tell both of them apart no matter what when I can't see their faces'.

"Shut up," the rock grumbled. "Go to sleep."

The pillow pile tilted and shifted a bit alarmingly before a hole in it appeared and a pair of eyes peeked through. "I'd go to sleep but—hey! Vergil? Where'd you go?" There was silence and Dante's eyes darted to the side to stare at Eva.

"I'm under the covers, idiot," Vergil finally said.

"Vergil's a bedbug! Squish him!" said Dante. Eva groaned and rubbed at her eyes. A rumble sounded and both of the twins flinched and burrowed closer. In Dante's case, the pillow monster took up residence on Eva's stomach and she could feel arms and a torso resting on her. Vergil, on the other hand, managed to get his shoulders all the way under her.

Mystery solved, thought Eva. She hadn't realized a storm was happening, since there hadn't been any sounds of rain tapping on the glass. That meant that—

"The TV is probably out again," she said gloomily. Their TV had always been a bit finicky about static discharges; an electrical storm would put it out of commission for good.

"Noooooooo," moaned the pillow monster.

Vergil grunted noncommittally. It sounded like her stomach was talking.

Dante evidently thought the same thing, because Eva felt his hands cup around her belly button and his breath as he called, "Hello, Earth to Vergil! How's the weather down there?"

"I told you to shut up," said Vergil darkly. "I'm trying to sleep."

"And I was sleeping, until both of you woke me up," Eva said. With a bit of scrambling on Vergil's part when he tried to escape her, she dragged him out from under her back and sat up, scattering Dante's pillow fort everywhere. Dante crouched over her lap, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car. The look on his face clearly said, 'Uh oh!' "Uh oh is right, young man," said Eva. "Both of you are in big trouble for cutting into my beauty sleep."

"We've been here for the past two hours without waking you up," Vergil pointed out from where he was pinned on his back to the mattress by Eva's arm. He was strangely calm for a boy facing certain death.

"You get brownie points for that," she said sarcastically. "You still woke me up—ah…" She squinted blearily at her alarm clock, where she could barely make out the time (4:32am). "Way too early," she grumbled at last. "Both of you are doomed because I'm going to kill you." Dante made to run away, but she caught his arm and dragged him to her side.

"I'm sorry," he said, his blue eyes wide. "I won't do it again, I promise."

"Cheap words, mister, especially since that was the line you used on me last time," said Eva, giving him a little shake.

"Idiot," Vergil muttered, and grunted when Eva dug her nails into his chest a little.

"Unfortunately, it's too early for me to be killing my own offspring with a Colt .45," she said. "So instead, both of you—" she moved Dante over to her other side and propped both of them up against her headboard, where they sat like pretty little dolls and stared at her with identical expressions of anticipation. "—get to sleep on this side of the bed and—" A few of the pillows Dante had used ended up in their laps and Eva reclaimed her own pillow. "—you will not try to use me as a blanket, a mattress, or anything else that your devious little demon brains come up with. Don't move a muscle until I come back, all right?" They nodded.

Eva threw off the covers and slouched into the bathroom, where she dug out two pairs of ear plugs—Sparda had gotten them from somewhere and gave them to her 'for the children'—and returned to find that both boys had indeed not moved a muscle, but the covers had magically been straightened out and only their heads poked out. Their eyes were still wide; for some odd reason, whenever she threatened one or both of them, they would simultaneously stop moving under their own power and their big blue eyes would track her across the room like a pair of creepy porcelain dolls. It was like they were just waiting for her to smack them or something. It creeped her out, especially in the very poorly lit bedroom where all she could see was the gleam of their silver-white hair and eyes.

Eva narrowed her eyes when she saw them but climbed back into bed without saying anything. They obediently took the earplugs and stuffed them into their ears just in time for another set of angry thundering. She watched them carefully and noted that the earplugs appeared to stop all noise completely. When she snapped her fingers next to Vergil's head and said, "Can you hear me?" he shook his head and laid back. Dante copied him and in moments, both were fast asleep and both of them started those annoying little wheezing kitten-snores they always did when they were very tired. Eva flipped the covers over their faces to muffle the noise and settled back to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, she woke up to find Dante drooling all over her collarbone and Vergil trying to rearrange her furniture more to his liking. Needless to say, the two suddenly found themselves in rather more trouble than they had been earlier that day. 


	4. The Internet is for Porn, Part I

Author's Note: The scene changes in this chapter are marked by the triple sets of triple Xs. I would also like to note that the formatting on the e-mails turned to shit and resulted in the fixing of the (fake) addresses. Dante's website is dmciv dot org, and I have no idea if it exists. I do know that there is a hotsaucedante user on livejournal who acts strangely similar to my version of Dante. HMMM, how suspicious. Or not. He seems to have a thing for gothic architecture and calling Vergil names. It's kind of funny.

**The Internet is for Porn, Part I**

* * *

_Sent to: hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX  
From: devilhunter(at)XXXXXX  
Subject: DEV-H Welcome to the Devil Hunter listserv!_

_Welcome to the Devil Hunter listserv, Dante!_

_Your password is XXXXXX._

_You can access the listserv archives at XXXXXX. To message the listserv, just hit 'reply' and type in your message._

_Please play nice with other people, obey all the social etiquette you normally do when face to face with someone, etc., so on and so forth. Have fun!_

* * *

Dante's eyes glinted in a decidedly malicious manner as he read the e-mail. The Devil May Cry office had bought a brand-spanking-new computer to keep up with the times as business started turning digital, and he had just finished setting everything up. Behind his chair, Trish peered at the screen and raised one of her over-plucked blonde eyebrows at what she saw. 

"Ohohoho, boy," said Dante, closing that window and bringing up the one that had ads for 'XXX HOT GIRLS LESBIANS EXPOSING THEMSELVES XXX'. "Hell yeah! This is what I'm all about."

"No surfing for porn on company time," Trish said, giving him a sharp look. Before he could do anything, she swiftly reached out and pressed a key, closing the porn window. When Dante glared at her, she just tossed her hair and tapped the screen pointedly. "I believe you were about to try out a messenger client?"

"Whatever, Trish," said Dante. "Who needs it? I don't."

"Just in case," said Trish. "And by the way, you're not allowed to slam your feet on the desk anymore. It might break the computer." She sauntered away into one of the back rooms with a swish of her hair.

Dante shrugged one shoulder and got back to clicking. Hey, if not slamming his feet on the desk was what it took to keep a computer safe and happy (and full of porn), then it was no biggie. He just hoped the armor he'd put on it would keep it safe from any angry office invaders; the damn thing was way too expensive for him to replace constantly.

A window popped up on the messenger client he was using, asking if he wanted to let someone see him when he was online. Dante clicked 'OK' and another window appeared—damn, how many windows were there?

* * *

Lady :  
Dante?  
hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX :  
Yo. What's up, babe? If you think you can trick me into rescuing your ass for free again, then forget it.  
Lady :  
Geez, Dante, you type fast. And how many times do I have to tell you to not call me 'babe'?  
hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX :  
You can't shoot me this time, so I'll call you whatever I want, babe.  
Lady :  
Fine. I'll just keep a tally and shoot you when I see you later. You're at two bullets now.  
hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX :  
The day you can keep up with me is still yet to come. It's cute how hard you try, though.  
Lady :  
You're dead. Anyway, have you signed up for that listserv?  
hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX :  
Yeah. I got one of those BS welcome e-mails telling me to play nice. What's up with this, anyway? Do they post legitimate jobs or what?  
Lady :  
They share the big jobs. It's usually a matter of fitting it into your schedule. I know you're not really in the loop with the devil hunting stuff—FYI, only a few of the listserv members are actually competent. Pretty sure I'm the only one who's at your caliber.  
hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX :  
If this is supposed to sell me on the concept, then you're falling pretty short of the goal.  
Lady :  
Just try it out, Dante. I've teamed up with a few of these guys on some really weird jobs. Of course, you would probably end up solo on a lot of them.  
hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX :  
That's because I'm good.  
Lady :  
No, it's because you're so hard to work with. The ego practically has its own gravitational pull.  
hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX :  
Aww, Lady, take it easy on the compliments. You're making me blush.

* * *

"Flirting again?" Dante glanced over his shoulder where Trish had reappeared. "You know it's not going to do any good." 

Dante waved dismissively. "Hey," he said, "a guy has to find some fun somewhere." He leaned back and smirked, rubbing his chin. "I just happen to like them dangerous and armed to the teeth."

"One day, she's going to shoot you somewhere other than your face, and then you'll be sorry," said Trish, her eyes trailing down to his crotch. "You'd better kiss all your future heirs good-bye while you can."

Dante glanced down reflectively. "You know, I think I'll name one of them Vergil," he said. "Hey there, Vergil! How you doin'? What's that? You want to meet a hot egg somewhere? I'm sure I can arrange that—" He dodged the electrically-charged hand Trish swiped at his head and tsked at her. "Now, now, Trish. Don't wave that around the computer—might break, you know?" Trish tossed her head again and shoved Dante over so that she could get at the keyboard.

* * *

Lady :  
Your imagination is still as active as ever, I see.  
hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX :  
Hey, Lady. It's Trish. Dante is being an idiot again.  
Lady :  
Hi. Yeah, I noticed.  
hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX :  
He's started talking to his little swimmers.  
"Hey, you're the one who brought the topic up!" Dante protested.  
Lady :  
You're kidding, right?  
hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX :  
I swear it's true. He named one of them Vergil.  
Lady :  
Hmm. Any word on which one?  
hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX :  
No idea. Only Dante knows what he's talking about.  
Lady :  
Whichever one it is, it's probably better-looking than him. He might kill it out of jealousy.

* * *

Dante rolled his eyes and started sifting through the magazines covering his desk. Oh, here was the latest issue of Guns'N'Roses! He paged through it and sighed at all of the high prices. Not that he needed new guns, of course, but having lots of shiny metal decorating his walls definitely wouldn't hurt. 

"Dante," said Trish after a few minutes. "I think you just got an e-mail from that listserv."

* * *

_Sent to: devilhunter(at)XXXXXX  
From: XXXXXX  
Subject: DEV-H Big job at local high school – save the kids_

_Hey fellow hunters your help is needed_

_Just got a call from a lady about neer o. high school in XXXXXX she says it's had a lot of strange activity in the past couple of weeks and the kids are really scared_

_Said there were pounding noises on the walls next to people and the janitor hung himself in the middle of the cafeteria in a ritual star_

_People have disappeared in the area and the parents are afraid the kids will be next_

_Before you tell me to research more I went there and it stinks real bad like formaldehide and rotting corpses and I found extensive traces of summoning rituals_

_Please it's too big for me to handle on my own Im just a small time hunter who kills demonic cockroaches and stuff_

_Call XXXXXX if you can help_

_James L_

* * *

Dante yawned. "He probably smelled a stink bomb," he said. "I've set off enough of those in my errant youth to know." 

Trish snorted. "Well, you can either call or ask for more details."

* * *

_Sent to: devilhunter(at)XXXXXX  
From: XXXXXX  
Subject: Re: DEV-H Big job at local high school – save the kids_

_James L, huh? Aren't you that stupid prick who sent everyone into a panic over a couple of buzzers a few months back?_

_Count me out. You're probably raising a fuss over nothing._

_S_

* * *

"Well, that answers that," said Trish. "He seems to be an alarmist." 

"My Sparda sense is tingling," Dante said. "It feels kinda nice." Trish shot him a look and rolled her eyes when he grinned.

* * *

_Sent to: devilhunter(at)XXXXXX  
From: XXXXXX  
Subject: Re: Re: DEV-H Big job at local high school – save the kids_

_I know I did some stupid crap a while back but trust me this is no joke_

_Please help I don't know what to do_

_James L_

* * *

"Better than nothing," said Dante. "All right, let's go!" He shouldered Trish out of the way.

* * *

_Sent to: devilhunter(at)XXXXXX  
From: hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX  
Subject: Re: DEV-H Big job at local high school – save the kids_

_You're in my area. Get me some solid proof and I'll go kick some ass._

_Sent to: devilhunter(at)XXXXXX  
From: XXXXXX  
Subject: Re: Re: DEV-H Big job at local high school – save the kids_

_Thank you I don't have photos only my intuition and some drawings of the stuff I saw but if you want proof on the deaths and disappearances u should take a look at the local newspaper and come look at the school yourself_

_Im sorry if you don't believe me next time I go Ill bring a camera and take pictures_

_It would be great if the issue resolved itself but I know it's not gonna so that's why im asking for help._

_James L_

* * *

"Jeez," said Dante. "This guy takes forever. How is this a good idea, exactly?" Trish sighed. "Whatever," he said. "I say we just go kill stuff. This is just a waste of time." 

"There might be some information you need to know," said Trish. "Give it until tomorrow and then I'll let you run wild if it seems legitimate."

* * *

_Sent to: devilhunter(at)XXXXXX  
From: XXXXXX  
Subject: Re: Re: DEV-H Big job at local high school – save the kids_

_Hey, Newbie;_

_Since our e-mails are hidden, you should sign your name at the bottom of the message so we know who we're talking to._

_With that said, I've researched and there are small articles about the death and names have appeared on the Missing Persons list, but that still doesn't prove any demonic activity is going on. After the buzzer scare, I'm inclined not to trust you, James L. Visit again and get some photos._

_Lakes_

* * *

_Sent to: devilhunter(at)XXXXXX  
From: XXXXXX  
Subject: Re: Re: DEV-H Big job at local high school – save the kids_

_Lakes, Dante doesn't need to sign his name for me to feel the ego. It's oppressive and smells a bit like day-old cheese pizza._

_Well, if Dante thinks it's worth a look then I'm game. Dante?_

_Lady_

* * *

"Whoa, Lady is everywhere," said Dante.

* * *

_Sent to: devilhunter(at)XXXXXX  
From: hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX  
Subject: Re: Re: DEV-H Big job at local high school – save the kids_

_Whoa, Lady, since when did you listen to my opinion? And there's nothing wrong with day-old pizza, just so you know. I don't know where you got the cheese part, though. I order pineapple and ham._

_I'm game. Let's rock!_

_Anyone who cares can show up tomorrow at NOHS at 8pm. _

_PS: Lakes: DAAAAAAAAAANTEEEEEEEEE_

* * *

_Sent to: devilhunter(at)XXXXXX  
From: XXXXXX  
Subject: Re: Re: DEV-H Big job at local high school – save the kids_

_You're right Lady, it does smell a bit like day-old cheese pizza. Well, if Lady is going to be there, I'll be there too. James L, it looks like fortune is smiling down on you today, because you get two top-grade devil hunters and a complete dumbass named Dante tomorrow._

_S_

* * *

"I'm not the only one with a huge ego," said Dante to Trish. The phone started ringing and he picked it up. "Devil May Cry," he said. 

Lady's voice buzzed out of the phone. "You know, I thought the typical meeting time for killing demons was around midnight." She sounded amused.

"I can kill demons any time of the day," Dante said. "Who's this S guy?"

"Oh, has your male ego been bruised?" Lady teased.

"He's gonna have to try harder than that to get to me. If he's going to be there tomorrow, then I want to know a little bit about him." Dante prodded at the number pad of the phone and put it down; Lady's voice came out, muffled by the speaker setting. Trish sat on the arm of his chair and listened attentively.

"S is an older guy who's got a pretty good reputation in our circle. His name is Silas. I think he usually sticks with mid-level demons, although we've teamed up for a lark on some of the big ones," said Lady. "He probably thinks you're just some greenhorn hunter that I'm humoring."

"What? How the hell did he get that impression?" Dante found himself getting elbowed out of the way by Trish.

* * *

_Sent to: devilhunter(at)XXXXXX  
From: hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX  
Subject: Re: Re: DEV-H Big job at local high school – save the kids_

_Trish here. Don't bother thanking us, James. Just bring those sketches you made and we'll take care of the rest._

* * *

"Well, your overpowering presence doesn't translate over the Internet," said Lady. "All you sound like is some cocky kid bulling your way into someone else's business. By the way, what do you make of this job?" There were clicking noises as she evidently typed something. Dante suddenly got the feeling that he was trapped in a land where everything was taken care of on the computer and he slowly grew fat while he sat in his chair and killed digital demons with a digital gun. He felt the need to smash the monitor. 

"We've been past a few times," said Dante. "It wasn't ever smelly enough for us to check out, especially for free. Sounds like it's started to, though."

"Yes," Lady agreed, still clicking away. Dante restrained himself from demanding to know what she was doing. "It always starts with disappearances, and the janitor…oh, here's the article." There was a short pause. "It calls the ritual star 'mysterious marks on the floor and the walls' and that the police are looking into it. He was probably some sort of sacrifice."

"No pictures?" Dante glanced at the monitor and discovered that Trish had pulled up the same article. It was like magic. He skimmed a few lines and laughed. "What _is_ this BS article? What are they teaching in journalism schools these days, anyway?"

"Not writing," said Lady. "I'd call it ignorant snooping, but that wouldn't be nice to my journalist friend who covers up some of my jobs."

"Ooh! Doing something illegal, are we?" Dante said in a mocking voice. "Tsk tsk, Lady. You should know better!"

"Says the man who reduced half of downtown into a steaming rubble heap when he was nineteen!" Lady retorted.

"Hey, that wasn't me, that was Vergil," said Dante. "Don't blame me for his actions."

"It was all your fault." There was a final click. "Okay, I'm going to have to go. See you tomorrow night, Dante."

"Bye." He hung up the phone and gave Trish a pathetic look. "Trish, Lady is going to leave me for some old geezer named Silas."

Trish ignored him. Well, it was a pretty stupid thing to say, so Dante let her off the hook.

XXX XXX XXX (Oh yeah! Keep it coming!)

By the time Dante roared into the school parking lot on his motorbike, there was already quite a collection of people there, all talking loudly to each other about demon exterminators and a really hot chick in tights and an ammo skirt. With a grin, he revved his engine and swerved around them, earning a few shrieks of surprise.

"You're such a show-off," Trish said in his ear. She was perched on the back of the seat with a hand bracing herself lightly on his back, and kept offering annoying advice about his driving. "I see Lady." She pointed at a woman with a white shirt and what looked like part of a telephone pole strapped to her back. There was a man next to her. Dante obligingly screeched to a halt two feet away and saluted.

"Dante," said Lady, scowling. "I see you finally showed up."

"It's 8:05, babe," said Dante, dismounting and nudging the kickstand with his foot. "I'm fashionably late."

"There was traffic," Trish cut in before Lady could shoot him in the face. "A school bus full of kids, in fact. Funny thing, seeing one of those at 8pm on a school night."

Lady sighed. "It's that James," she explained. "We somehow got ourselves an audience because he told a friend who told another friend—well, you know how it goes. Now we've got half the school hanging out in the parking lot to watch." She glanced over her shoulder at the man next to her.

The man was dressed in what looked like someone's hand-me-down pajama set with weapon holsters strapped everywhere. Dante could see numerous scars crisscrossing all over his face and vanishing under his shirt. He was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, and when he saw Dante assessing him, he raised an eyebrow and said cool-as-you-please, "Silas, at your service. Dante, right? Lady's told me a few things about you."

Dante smirked. "Nice to meet you. You sure you should be out here? Strenuous activity is bad for the joints of the elderly, you know."

Silas didn't reply, and instead turned his head to the side to look at a somewhat thickset man who had come puffing up to them. "James," he said. "I see you haven't found a good exercise regime yet."

James gave him a wounded look and sucked in a few deep breaths before he started to speak. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you so much for coming. I'm sorry about the crowd."

"I work better with an audience," Dante joked.

"Yes, sorry," James said again, fumbling in his pockets. "I have the drawings that Miss Trish asked for," he added, finally fishing out a sheaf of crumpled and greasy papers that he handed to Trish. Trish took them and wrinkled her nose a little. Lady and Silas leaned in to look.

"Looks like a pentagram-based spell, but I can't make out enough details to be sure which one specifically," said Silas.

"Hmm," said Trish. She pulled her sunglasses off and thumbed through the drawings. Dante noted that James was staring at her chest.

"Dante, don't you want to look?" asked Lady. He glanced at her and shrugged.

"Hey," he said. "I personally don't need any visual aides, but if you think you need the help, go for it."

Wordlessly, Lady pulled out one of her heftier pistols and shot him in the temple. Dante's head was knocked sideways from the force. Someone from the crowd screamed. Silas said, "My God!" and James started gibbering.

Annoyed, Dante rocked upright and said, "Whoa, Lady! Tetchy today, are we?" She made to shoot him again, but he whipped out Ivory and pushed her gun barrel aside. "You can shoot me once, but twice is another matter," he said.

Lady leaned close, her eyes narrowing. "I still owe you another three bullets," she said darkly. "Insult me again and next time you'll find yourself with a Kalina-Ann-sized-hole in those washboard abs of yours." She jerked away and strode angrily to Silas, who had gone grey in the face. The two started holding a whispered conversation that Dante pretended he couldn't hear. He tucked Ivory back into its holster and slapped a quivering James on the back.

"Good job, Dante," said Trish. "You just couldn't pass that one up, could you?" When Dante only grinned, she shook her head and handed him a greasy sheet. "Here, this one looks pretty familiar, doesn't it?"

"Hell Gate, opening rites," said Dante, glancing over it. "I saw these in that tower and on the island." He returned it to Trish, who examined it carefully and nodded. "Who the hell would open up one of these in a school?"

"A psychopath," Silas said. He and Lady had finished their private conversation. "I'm going to stay out here and see if I can find the culprit." He gestured to the crowd, which was milling anxiously. A crowd of school kids were mixed in with the adults and Dante noticed that several of them were staring at him with open admiration.

"We get to clean up the mess inside, huh," said Dante. "It's always like that."

Lady snorted and made her way to the entrance of the school. "That's the way you like it, right, Dante?"

"You say that like you don't agree," said Dante, following. "Have fun at your pajama party, old man," he threw over his shoulder at Silas before he disappeared into the dark school with Lady and Trish.

Inside, Dante got a whiff of something that reminded him of the time he forgot to take out the trash for a month, mixed with a mad scientist's specimen tank. There was a bit of formaldehyde, half-rotten cheese, bad milk, and a distinctive odor that he normally associated with demons mixed in.

"Looks like you were right, Dante," said Trish, sniffing. "Haven't even seen anything yet and still it reeks like your trash can."

"Well, if a certain blonde _someone_ wouldn't keep using up all the Febreze on her clothes," said Dante pointedly, "my trash _might_ smell like a fresh mountain breeze." The lobby of the school had three hallways leading out of it and he strolled over to the middle one casually. "So, is this the point where we all split up and meet vicious slavering doom at the end of our respective hallways?" he asked. A ball of paper bounced off the back of his head and he caught it on the way down.

"That's a map of the school," said Lady. "We're splitting up to meet vicious slavering doom at the end of our respective hallways."

"As long as I've got the biggest one, I don't care," said Dante. "See ya, Trish," he added to the empty corridor to his right. Trish was already long gone. "Man," he muttered after Lady left. "Well, let's do this!" He took off.

Beyond the dimly lit lobby, the darkness was oppressive and smelled worse than ever. Dante could feel it clinging at his legs and chest with sticky, malicious fingers, slowing him down and trying to tug him in different directions. "Phew!" He made a face at the worsening stench and skidded around a corner.

The chattering demonic horde, averaging about two feet tall all around, turned en masse and blinked at him with eerie blue insect eyes. Dante grinned as his brain catalogued everything in the hall in the space of two seconds. "Well, well," he said. "Whack-a-mole was always the game I got perfect scores on in the arcade. Let me guess, this is the Master level." He casually moved his foot out of the way when one of the smaller demons tried to sink its practically microscopic teeth into his boot. When it tried to scrabble backwards—the move had placed it a good foot away from the rest of the horde—Dante decided that he wanted to test how strong the floor was with Rebellion. The little demon let out a piercing shriek of agony as it got impaled, and vanished in a puff of foul-smelling smoke.

Dante felt the stares of thousands of mini-nightmares sharpen and a loathsome miasma start leaking into the atmosphere. He grinned disarmingly at them. "What's wrong?" he said. "All of you are so quiet." He picked up Rebellion again and beckoned. "Come on, guys. I'm feeling kind of left out now. I came expecting a hot party but all I see is a cold reception."

The mass of demons shifted uncertainly. Dante shrugged. "All right, be that way. Don't come crawling to me when the cops come and bust you for being party poopers!" He slammed his blade down again and a whole swath of them vanished with a chorus of angry wailing. The black mass rose up and became a wall about to crash down on him. Dante felt his grin widen as the world went black.

XXX XXX XXX (I can't hear you!)

After all that hype and the anticipation Dante had ignited, Lady was terribly disappointed by the time she reached the end of her hallway. The place was empty and completely normal-looking.

"This is the last time I'm trusting anything you say, you big doof," she muttered, staring at the floor-to-ceiling windows that marked the end of the hall. "I drive an hour, meet up with that pretentious ass Silas, get panted over by that other cad, and all for nothing! Five minutes of insults and an empty building!" She hefted Kalina Ann and tightened the shoulder strap—stupid thing was always slipping—before turning around. Still empty hallway; if anything had wanted to pop up and scare her, now was the time to do it.

Nothing happened.

"Damn," said Lady. "That's it, I'm out of here. Dante, have fun waving your gun at shadows." Annoyed, she took one step, two steps, then stopped, because the lighting had just directed her attention to a door that she hadn't noticed.

JANITOR'S CLOSET, she read on the label of the door.

Her map told her that there was no door there. Lady cocked her pistol and measured a few steps so that she could take a running jump at it. There was really nothing better than kicking a cheap wooden door down with steel-weighted boots.

Of course, using Kalina Ann was much better. The door went down in flames and Lady sauntered through, carefully stepping over little gouts of flame and sniffing the air for any demons. In devil-hunting, a hunter's number one sense was often their sense of smell, followed by touch and then sight, because demons never seemed to think to hide their stench; either that or they didn't carry any air freshener with them. The only exceptions Lady had ever met were Vergil and Dante, but those two were half-demons and didn't really count. Dante especially—on a good day, Dante smelled a bit like a wet dog as well as whatever manly shampoo he'd been using lately, but on a bad day he smelled almost as bad as his trash did after not being taken out for two weeks. She could barely remember thinking that Vergil smelled a bit like milk about to go bad, but she chalked that up to Vergil probably being anal about washing. Full demons just plain stank all the time. Lady suspected Dante's mother had no sense of smell, if she stuck around long enough to produce twins with daddy-dearest.

Well, whatever her opinions were on the matter of Dante's conception, the air was clear in the large room beyond the door. There wasn't even the smell of cleaning solutions like she would have expected after seeing the label on the door.

"Okay, guys," she said. "The game's up. I know this room isn't supposed to be here, and I'm not gonna just leave now that it seems like nothing's in here. Come clean or I'm blowing this place sky high."

Silence. A little rumble, a little scratching, and she had her gun ready and waiting. Primed, oiled and ready to go—and this had better be that slavering doom Dante was joking about or else she was going to have words with him about his stupid women's intuition.

There was a deep boom and Lady felt the floor go out from beneath her. "Son of a bitch!" she shrieked, surprised enough to let go of her inhibition towards swearing, just before the darkness swallowed her whole.


	5. The Internet is for Porn, Part II

Author's Note: Hey look, a hint of a plot! By the way, I changed the rating to T for swearing and terrible jokes. Also, my second parts are longer than the first parts, usually at least double the length. Mmm, delicious. Honk if you love Vergil!

Sorry if you want me to respond to reviews. I do read them, but I don't always know what to say. Plus, it wastes lots of space because I never know when to shut up. Let's poll the audience instead: _Dante or Vergil, and why that choice?_ I personally like Dante because he's more versatile than Vergil, although he's a little aimless at times without a goal.

* * *

**The Internet is for Porn, Part II**

* * *

A dull booming noise echoed through the school. Trish lifted her head and glanced around. When nothing happened, she grunted and went back to trying to open the door she had found that wasn't on the map of the school. It refused to budge even when she used all of her considerable strength—a wooden door would not normally be able to put up with the abuse she was dishing out—and didn't even have the grace to look scorched when she slammed an electricity loaded palm against it. Definitely suspicious in her mind.

"Shoot," she muttered. "Maybe Luce and Ombra…" She pulled out the two guns and took aim at the handle of the door.

Just then, the wall behind her and slightly to her left collapsed in a smoking pile of cement and steel lengths. Dante blasted through the brand new doorway with a whoop and landed in the middle of the hallway, where he paused to dust off his jacket and look impressive. He glanced over his shoulder at Trish.

"Hey," he said, smirking. "Long time, no see. What did that door handle do to you?"

"You're an idiot," she said and pulled the trigger on Luce. The bullet pinged off the wood of the door and the ricochet almost got Dante, who deflected it with Ebony.

"Whoa there, I know you're excited to see me, but you don't need to do that—hey." He brushed the edges of his coat out so that it flapped impressively and leaned over to inspect the door. "Wood doesn't do that," he announced.

"Idiot," Trish repeated. "I've been shoving and hitting and this thing isn't budging." She kicked the door to illustrate.

"Well, then," said Dante. He turned the doorknob and opened the door. "Simple, isn't it," he said, mocking.

Trish frowned. "You only ever kick doors down," she said. "Honestly." She peered inside. "Anyway, this room isn't on the map and I didn't want to take any chances."

When Dante didn't answer, she turned to glare at him. He glanced up from where he was admiring her backside. "Don't mind me," he said. "I'm just doing what I usually do. By the way, the seat on those pants is starting to wear out."

Trish moved away from the room and pointed at it. "You first, lecher," she said sternly.

"Sheesh, you wave that thing in my face and expect me not to look? Whatever," said Dante, walking into the room—

"Let's not try that again," he said from the floor where he landed after an invisible barrier sent him across the room with a lot of angry flashes of light and a furious boom. "What the hell was that?" He got up and rubbed the hip he had landed on.

"Looks like an anti-demon barrier," said Trish, examining it. "I probably would have been completely roasted if I had gone through."

"No shit!" Dante examined his hands, which had turned a nice medium-rare color that one normally found in steak. "Ow. Owowow. I won't lie, that stung like a bitch. How much you wanna bet that's the room demons are summoned in?"

"They can get out, but they can't come in. Not that most demons would want to go back after being summoned, of course, but humans think the oddest things sometimes," said Trish. She looked at Dante over the tops of her sunglasses. "You okay, Mr. Dish of the Day?"

"Peachy," Dante said. His fingers had returned to their normal color. "So what's up? Do we break the barrier or something?"

"Probably, but we should take another look around. Let's go check on Lady." Trish wrote a few notes on her map and pocketed it. Dante shrugged and started walking down the hall. A gunshot rang through the air.

Trish blew on Ombra and watched the little demon that had been clinging to Dante's shoulder fall and puff out of existence. Dante twisted to watch it fall.

"Shit, Trish," he said. "You just killed Vergil version two point oh."

"That doesn't look anything like Vergil," said Trish, stylishly sauntering down the hall.

"That was his Heartless," Dante protested. "Haven't you ever played Kingdom Hearts?"

"Come on, Dante. You can hold a funeral for him later."

"You don't hold funerals for Heartless," said Dante, walking quickly to catch up.

Behind them, the seething darkness spilled out into the hall and started to commit suicide by attempting to go through the open door. 

XXX XXX XXX

A light flared up in the darkness. Lady slammed the lit flare into the ground next to her knee and bent over her ankle, trying to figure out how bad the damage was.

"Shit," she growled. "This was just supposed to be a run through a goddamn school, not Lady versus crappy derelict building." The ankle was already swelling and turning dark, but it didn't hurt too badly. She didn't want to chance putting any weight on it, though. With no other options, she dusted off a piece of ceiling, sat on it, and surveyed her brand new temporary holding cell.

The exit was thirty feet overhead—not far for Kalina Ann's grappling hook, but the strength of the floor was another matter—and except for around the light flare she had lit, completely dark. Her voice echoed the way it did in large chambers with great acoustics. Even more annoyed than before, she swung Kalina Ann around and aimed it at the dim hole above.

"You'll bring the whole ceiling down on us, idiot."

Lady nearly fell off her makeshift seat but caught herself and pulled out her gun instead. There didn't seem to be anything to aim at beyond the light of the flare. Squinting, she thought she could make out a white blob about twenty feet away. Her arm steadied. "Who are you? Or should I be asking 'What are you'?"

"Oh?" Lady tensed. The voice was much closer than twenty feet, and it was off to the right of the white blob. She glared in its direction. "Well, it does not matter if you don't recognize my voice. It's been several years, has it not?" Footsteps approached, still to the right of the white blob, so Lady aimed her gun that way and squeezed off a few shots—generally, in her experience if there was anyone who knew her longer than Dante had, they were probably bad news.

There was a whirring noise and a sharp ping as her bullet was deflected. No human had the ability to deflect bullets. Her nostrils flared and she took in a muted smell that she couldn't identify. It wasn't familiar.

"Foolish girl," said the voice. "Friend or foe, they are all obscured by darkness. I am an ally, so put down your weapon."

"Foes will lie," Lady countered. "And now I know where you are and that you can deflect bullets." Her eyes narrowed as her vision finally adjusted enough to let her make out a pale blob floating in the air. "Come into the light if you're a friend, otherwise I'll blow you to kingdom come." She thumped Kalina Ann on the ground and aimed the barrel at the white shape for emphasis.

The demon—Lady was certain it was a demon—didn't reply, but it started moving toward the flare with a deliberate slowness that was starting to get on her nerves. First, she saw the general outline of a long, narrow face; then a long, elegant nose, piercing blue eyes, and white hair raked back in unordered clumps.

Lady's first impulse was to demand when Dante ended up down beneath the school and how he'd gotten an attitude change, but then she saw the vibrant blue of the demon's outfit (black in the flare's light) and she sucked in a sharp breath. She remembered that blue, and now with the face, another name came to mind.

"No," she said. "Vergil is dead. Nice try, though." She picked up her gun again and mentally ran through a catalogue of demons. "Mimic," she muttered. "Known for taking on the guise of dead friends—Vergil isn't a friend, you idiot—to mentally unbalance the hunter or hunted."

The Mimic stared at her with the corners of its mouth lowered slightly in a classic Vergil expression of 'You have no idea how stupid you're being right now'. Lady knew a trick when she saw it and decided to aim for its lips instead of its forehead. No demon had a right to steal Vergil's face after all that man had gone through. If Dante were here, this Mimic would be in pieces already. Lady, unfortunately, would have to shoot at it since her ankle had put her down for the count.

"If I were a Mimic, my outfit would be exactly the same as it was nine years ago at the Temen-ni-Gru," said the Mimic. "Because they have not ever known the person they're imitating, a Mimic would only be able to manage a superficial resemblance in both appearance and mannerisms, mostly taken after a short skim through your memories and only after it had observed you for several minutes." 

It was standing fully in the sphere of light now, and Lady took a good, hard look at it. The Mimic was really not wearing the coat from the tower, but its bright blue color had tricked her for a moment. The blue coat was ragged and was patched together with patches of slightly different colored cloth, with no ornamentation and no sleeves. Its shirt was a little torn and seemed to have blood-red patches here and there, and its black pants were torn and clumped oddly in places, suggesting a poor but thorough sewing job.

"High end Mimics can do this," she countered, and pulled the trigger. The Mimic twitched out of the way and sighed.

"Very well," it said. "What will it take to convince you to stop shooting me?"

"If you drop dead right there," said Lady and shot it again. It dodged. Fantastic, it was nearly as fast as Dante, although Dante preferred to just use his guns to deflect bullets. She recalled Dante saying that Vergil could use his sword to knock bullets aside.

"No," it said. "Is there anything else, or am I going to have to neutralize you?"

"Let me guess, by neutralize you mean 'kill'," Lady said darkly, letting Kalina Ann lean against her seat so that she could pull out another gun and start firing consecutive shots. The Mimic literally danced out of the way and when she had to put one gun down to reload, it pounced on her. Lady growled when its grip almost crushed both of her wrists and lashed out with her good foot. It let her get it in the ribs, but trapped her foot between its elbow and its chest.

"I wouldn't kick with the other foot," it said. "You'll damage it even more."

"The last thing I need is advice from a demon that's going to kill me," Lady snapped.

"I'm not going to kill you," the Mimic said patiently. "I'm going to have to knock you out if you continue to attack."

Lady tensed up. To get knocked out in a place like this was definitely certain death. The Mimic was certainly close enough to pull it off, and who knows what it would do with her body afterward?

"Fine," she said. "Talk."

The Mimic stared at her in Disapproving Vergil Fashion and said blandly, "As awkward as it would be to discuss things with you like this, I can tell you're just waiting for me to get far enough away for you to start shooting again."

"Damn straight," said Lady. "No compromise or quarter with demons."

Its lips quirked. "Not even with Dante? No, I'm sure you antagonize him whenever you get an opportunity."

"You know nothing," Lady snarled. "You have the gall to put on the face of a dead man and now you act like you know us. You don't, so stop it."

"Fine," the Mimic said. "I can see that line of discussion will get us nowhere. Then I'd like to ask, where exactly were you before you fell into this stinking hellhole?"

"You don't know?" Lady said sarcastically. "Geez, you can't even come up with any good questions. It's a school, of course. A normal, human school that should not have basements thirty feet deep, or demons for that matter."

"When I found myself here," the Mimic said, "I had come from a dungeon. A demon dungeon in hell, to be exact."

"You were probably too pretty for them and got tossed down there," Lady said.

"Your sarcasm does not interest me, _Mary_," the Mimic said. "Listen to what I'm saying, woman. This place is not below the school you were in. It's somewhere quite different. Look." It tilted its head to look at the ceiling. Despite herself, Lady leaned back to look.

"Where the hell did my hole go?" she said out loud, and nearly slapped herself before remembering that the Mimic had her hands. "Okay, that didn't sound good. Back up. Where the hell did the hole I came through go?" She glared at the Mimic, who was smirking the way Dante did whenever she made an accidental innuendo. The likeness was eerie.

"It probably hasn't gone," it said rather than comment. "We're the ones who have gone. Has this school of yours reported any mysterious disappearances lately?"

Lady growled and tried to pull away. It let go of her and took a step back. She sighed and rubbed her hands together, trying to get rid of the weird feeling of too-warm flesh and bone squeezing them. "It has," she said. "I hope we find some of the missing people."

"Doubtful," the Mimic murmured. "This place has high level demons in it that no ordinary human could survive." It leveled an icy stare at her. "And as exceptional a woman as you have turned yourself into, there is no way you would be able to survive with your ankle in that condition."

"I bet you ate them," Lady said. She didn't trust this thing a single bit. "You were probably sitting here and eating whoever ended up falling in."

The Mimic scowled. "As sad as I am to not measure up to your expectations, there is nothing in any of the existing planes that will make me consider dining on human flesh a viable option. This conversation would go much faster if you could stop accusing me."

Lady considered him for a moment. His reactions and personality were spot-on for Vergil, but what the Mimic wouldn't know was that Lady had amassed quite a collection of embarrassing stories about Vergil that Dante had shared with her over the years. She knew some interesting things; for instance, Vergil will always, always do a full-body blush whenever his sex life is mentioned. It turned out that Dante did the same thing whenever someone had the guts to say it to his face. Dante claimed it was because women talking to him about sex turned him on, but Trish and Lady didn't believe him. Trish speculated that he was just trying to cover up a virgin's reaction, but Lady thought it was because he was still a twelve-year-old boy at heart and even after he'd slept with every woman on the planet he would probably still laugh at the word penis like it was the greatest joke in the world. The blush was just his immaturity talking.

"I'm sure there's some flesh that you wouldn't mind tasting," Lady said, smirking.

"Yes, well, there are always exceptions," the Mimic said. Lady stared. His face was still pale. Was that a bit of pink on his cheekbones? It was actually hard to tell, since the flare's light was a dim red. Speaking of dim…

"Ugh, my flare is dying." She kicked it with her good leg, sending it flying several meters away where it guttered out and died completely. The two were plunged into complete blackness.

Another light flared up, this time a brilliant white, and Lady discovered that the room she had thought they were in was an endless hall with deep red walls and that she was the only white thing in there, including the Mimic, who was doing the same full-body blush that Dante did, although it was starting to fade away to a pale pink in its face, neck, and upper arms. It was holding a pole with a witch light in the little bronze lamp at the end the way will-o-wisps did in swamps to lead people astray.

"If you had that, you could have lit it before showing up out of the dark like some kind of ghoul," Lady pointed out.

The blush had died away completely, leaving the illusion of Vergil come back to life complete. Lady suddenly wanted to cry. The Mimic tapped the pole with a finger. "This only lights up when there is no other light source in my line of sight," it said. "Fairly convenient if an enemy has a light, but fairly inconvenient if I'm trying to sneak up on someone without one."

"Great," said Lady. "Whatever. So what else did you want besides asking me about where I fell from?"

The Mimic grunted and moved so that it was in front of her. "We're trapped," it said. "I have seen evidence that both full humans and full demons can cross the barrier between worlds. I do not deal with demons and all the humans have been killed before I can find them." Its chin dipped slightly to her. "I was hoping to help you leave and figure out how to get myself across."

"If you're a full demon, you'll need to be summoned," said Lady.

The Mimic's lips twitched. "You still don't believe me, I see," it said. "Whether or not you do, I am Vergil, I am a half blood, and I believe with my half-human lineage I should be able to get across without needing another's help. I've seen demons cross, but I have to see a human before I can construct the second part of the spell."

"Good luck with that," said Lady. "I don't know anything about crossing barriers, just how to kill things." She glared at the part of the ceiling that had been her exit.

The Mimic shrugged. "Yes, I rather figured that. Crossing the barrier to hell was your late father's specialty." Lady resisted the very powerful urge to shoot him in face. If he kept bringing up her family, she wouldn't be able to hold herself back. Not even imagining Dante's face when she told him that she had shot Vergil in the head would be able to stop her. "However, I also researched it. Perhaps I'm not as much of an…expert as Arkham, but I at least know enough to improvise. The problem is the lack of live subjects."

Lady snarled a little at being referred to as a subject, but let it go and holstered her guns. The Mimic—no, Vergil's attitude problem wasn't the thing to focus on right now. Not even a high level Mimic would know about crossing barriers, but Vergil would. After all, he had successfully lifted Sparda's great seal and thrown himself into hell and Mundus's clutches, so his having knowledge of such things was plausible. Plus, the illusion was too imperfect and perfect to be a fake—little details that Lady had never noticed were coming to light that seemed so Vergil that it made her wonder why she had not noticed them before. The way his head tilted down as he worked through a problem, the wide stance he took when he wasn't pacing like a caged tiger, it was all just like him and yet Lady had never seen him do these things before. As for accepting the fact that Vergil was alive, well…stranger things had happened to her before. The important thing was that he was here, which meant that her chances of survival were probably somewhere around 176 (Dante's presence would probably make it around 200, but only because she liked him more than Vergil). She could adapt as long as he didn't expect her to stop staring at him.

"Bandage your ankle," said Vergil. "I have a salve that will help, but you won't be able to do any hard running on it for a week."

Lady clammed up defensively. "If you think I'm gonna let you anywhere near me with some sort of 'salve' from who knows where, you've got another thing coming."

Vergil pulled out a box the size of the palm of his hand and about an inch thick and flipped it at her. She caught it just before it hit her nose. "A thin film of that will do," he said and turned around to ponder the wall.

"You don't need to turn around, it's not like I'm stripping," Lady said, grimacing as she opened the box and got a whiff of the stuff in it. "This smells like ass," she said, scraping up a bit of it on her fingertips, where it melted into a more malleable form and expanded. With an unladylike grunt, she sat back and carefully eased her boot off with one hand. The funny salve went on easily and made it feel like she had just plunged her foot in a bucket of ice water. "So, what exactly do you eat down here if not human flesh?" she asked.

"There are animals down here, or the equivalent of animals at least," Vergil said, still staring at the wall like it was an incredibly fascinating TV show. "They tend to avoid humans, but most demons eat those when they're not dining on your kind." Lady couldn't see his face, but she could almost hear his sneer.

"Doesn't that make it hard for you, then?" She inspected her ankle, which had become a very slight red and barely swelled. It sort of tingled and she sat on her hands to keep herself from prodding at it.

"Relatively, I suppose," he replied. "I set traps for the smaller ones, which works fairly well. I do not recommend them for human consumption, however."

"Hmm." Lady wiggled her toes. It was a little sore, but it would have to do. She put her sock on and slid her foot back into her boot and strapped it up again. "Then I suggest you get me out of here before I starve to death."

Vergil turned around and eyed her critically. "Fine," he said. "You may hold the light." He held it out to her and she took it. The light suddenly dimmed and the area lit by it was cut in half.

"Ah! What the hell!" Lady cried. "Stupid thing!" It brightened when she shouted but dimmed again shortly after.

"It responds to how strong you are," Vergil said after she cursed at it for a full minute. He looked amused. "I would not be disappointed with half if I were you."

"I am not going to get into a pissing contest with you, of all people," Lady said. "I'm thinking more in terms of convenience."

Vergil grunted and lifted Kalina Ann with deceptive ease. "I do not need that much light to fight," he said. "This is fine, maybe better. We won't be spotted quite as easily."

"Demons," Lady muttered under her breath. "Whatever. And give me that!"

"That's too much weight on that ankle right now. You're lucky I've left you your guns," Vergil said and set off. She limped after him quickly, her gaze fixed on her weapon. There was soon only the sound of the occasional drip, their footsteps, and a constant whirring noise that Lady had heard once before in the Temen-ni-Gru. It was the groan of an old building full of gears and movement.

"By the way, I hate you," she said after several minutes.

"Fortunately, you were dropped not far from the place I usually work," Vergil said, ignoring her. "I should be able to send you back from there." He smirked at her over his shoulder. "An hour of my company at the most is all you will need to stand, dear Lady."

"Unless we all die when the big boss comes along," she said.

"Yes, well, we shall just have to hope for the best in that case." Vergil took a right and waited for her to hobble around the corner. Her ankle was starting to hurt again. She hoped it would hold out long enough for her to escape being carried. "Just a few feet along here and you will be able to rest," he added.

True to his word, they came to a small, green-lit room with some out-of-place benches that were covered in bloody marks. Lady stared at them in consternation.

"Old marks," Vergil said, dismissing them. "You may sit—or stand if you really want." He moved to the center of the room and knelt next to a small ritual star that was missing half the marks. Lady eyed it before concluding that it was some sort of reverse summoning meant to send the object of the spell far away and carefully seated herself on the bench. Vergil wordlessly took the light from her and almost blinded her when the place suddenly lit up like someone had set off a magnesium firework in it. Her eyes slowly adjusted and she found Vergil scribbling with some sort of white chalk next to her feet. She tried to keep the discomfort she felt at being a target of a ritual star off her face, and at the same time resist another powerful urge to put her boot on the back of Vergil's head and smash his pretty face into the ground.

"So," she said. "How does it feel, kneeling like this in front of someone like me?"

"Don't distract me," said Vergil, adding small modifiers to a symbol he had marked. "And it feels like kneeling in front of someone with an over-inflated ego."

"You know how to impress the ladies," Lady said dryly. "Fine, I'll shut up." She leaned down and rubbed her ankle with a sigh.

Vergil was a very boring person to watch work. For one thing, his expression was the same no matter what he was doing, a sort of pouting frown that would have looked cute on Dante but only managed to ping Lady's 'stoically handsome in an annoying way' meter. Another thing was that he was totally silent and since what he was doing was incredibly arcane, Lady could only surmise the barest basics and got lost on anything beyond that. It was basically sitting around and waiting for something to happen. He wasn't even any fun to tease, because he would shoot her down and then insult her.

No wonder Dante got annoyed when he remembered Vergil.

A good while later saw a coatless Vergil marking the other side of the room and Lady calculating the angle and distance it would take for her to land a rock down the back of his pants, which were gaping slightly in the back. She'd been thinking about the two interacting and put herself in Dante's place, which resulted in her thinking various ways to annoy, antagonize, or otherwise agitate Vergil into a lengthy battle that would end in one of them dead—and considering the gap in power between herself and Vergil, Lady had no doubt that she would fall hard and fast. She also had no doubt that Vergil was probably really fun to provoke—what was she thinking? She wasn't insane. Best to avoid getting killed by the only one in this place who could help her.

"You done yet?" she asked. Vergil tapped the chalk on the stone and grunted. "English, please, not caveman speak," she said.

"Yes," he said, putting down another mark. "If it keeps you from asking again, then yes, I'm done."

"Asshole." Lady rubbed her ankle again and glared at him.

"Give me two minutes," he said. "Then you can be rid of me forever—"

"Yeah, until you get back to Earth and start trying to raise Sparda or something," Lady said sarcastically. "By the way, someone's already tried that and turned into a demon, so don't bother."

"Mmm. Temporarily, then. I promise I won't be very eager to raise hell on Earth again once I get out of here."

"Oh? Learned your lesson?" Lady tried not to sound as pleased as she was.

Vergil put the chalk down and sat up straight, staring at his right hand for some reason. "Perhaps," he said, brooding. He clenched his fist and a muscle in his cheek twitched as he ground his molars against each other. "What I need," he said, "is more power." He opened his hand and gestured at the walls. "Hell does not have the power that I want. With Mundus and my father gone, it's become a stinking hole in the ground, so I will go elsewhere."

Lady sat up and stared at him. "What are you saying, Vergil? Where else is there to go? Heaven?"

"You know as well as I do that there is no Heaven that mortals can touch," Vergil said. "Demons, humans, animals, plants, even rocks are all mortal and die or get destroyed eventually. Everything is mortal." He stood up and dusted his knees off.

"Then where, Vergil? Another world? There aren't any ones other than hell."

"There are many worlds," Vergil said quietly. "I don't know how to get to any yet, but mark my words, I will find a way, and when I do, I will find what I seek."

"You don't know that," said Lady. "Hey!" she shrieked when he jumped over all of his marks and scooped her up off the bench. He dumped her in the middle of the extensive ritual star and gave her Kalina Ann and her extra ammo.

"Don't move or you'll lose an arm," he said, obviously not in the mood to answer any more questions. "Also, don't talk or I'll be tempted to let the barrier eat your vocal cords permanently."

_Bastard!_ she screamed mentally, and braced herself. The ritual star lit up. Her final glimpse of Vergil was of his face, brow furrowed in concentration and colored a vibrant blue-violet by his magic. Darkness took her once again.

XXX XXX XXX (Mission 02, let's rock them to the core!)

Dante and Trish stared at the heap of weakly burning flames that used to be the door to a janitor's closet that didn't exist. The charred wood was scattered across the hall and the wall where it had been was scorched black.

"I hope I don't have to remind you that there are often mysterious disappearances at this school," Trish said stiffly.

"Hot trysts in the janitor's closet, huh," said Dante, picking up a piece of wood about a foot long and turning it over to reveal a half-melted plastic nameplate that said 'S CLOSET. "Kids these days just don't have any discipline." He pocketed it and kicked the scorched part of the wall. The black part crumbled at the impact and revealed that the walls contained lots of slightly stringy pink-grey insulation that smelled kind of like a fish market.

"I doubt Lady had any hot dates," Trish muttered, checking her map. "She must have gotten the same door that I did. I'm also guessing that you found something similar in your hall."

"I don't leave doors unopened," Dante said. "So what do we do now?"

"Now? We go back to my hall and see if we can break that barrier," said Trish.

When they got back to Trish's door, it was to discover that the hallway was packed with the corpses of dying demons. Dante stepped on several of them on his way to the door, while Trish voted to stand on the edge and watch from there. The barrier sparked threateningly.

"The marks are probably inside," Trish observed. "I think if we use a stick or something we might be able to poke around." She pulled out a flashlight and shined it inside. The two could see a bare floor that stopped a foot inside. "I don't think I'll go into detail about the complicatedness of an internal looping seal mechanism of what is clearly a trans-dimensional gateway," she murmured. "I think I see part of the runic portion from here. See if you can scrape some of them off, Dante."

Dante pulled out the part of the wooden door he'd picked up and stuck it through the barrier. It was like nothing was there. Making sure his fingers didn't come in contact with the barrier, he slid it sideways and rubbed at the wall as far in as he could get. Trish angled the light and watched him work.

Both of them only barely managed to get out of the way in time for the barrier to explode in a flash of purple light. Dante skidded backwards with his arm over his face. Trish ducked behind the door. There were some furious howls from the barrier, like something out of a nightmare or a B-rated horror flick from the seventies, and Dante fell on his ass for the second time that night when a body crashed into his chest and knocked him back. He landed hard and put his arms around the body to keep it from falling.

A quick peek revealed a roughed up Lady, fully unconscious with dozens of minor burns along the skin he could see. Luckily, her clothes seemed to have survived the ordeal. Not that Dante would have been very disappointed if they hadn't, of course. He pinched her cheek as gently as he could and peered into her face curiously. He hadn't ever seen Lady with her eyes closed or really doing anything other than glaring. It was a new experience—too bad he didn't have a camera, otherwise he'd have something to rag on her about from now until both of them died of old age.

A cold gun barrel against his temple announced Lady's return to consciousness.

"Any closer, mister, and I'm going to have to show you exactly why all the boys run away from me after the first date," Lady said darkly. From that distance, her heterochromia was more pronounced than ever.

Dante puckered his lips and made kissy kissy noises. She klonked him on the side of the head with the handle of her gun and tried to sit up, only to sink back down and groan quietly. "Asshole," she muttered. "Could have warned me that it was going to try to cook me on the way back, but no, we had to hold a grudge for just being alive! When I see him again, I'm going to kill him!" She tried to lift her head, but had to give up after two inches. "Feels like he beat me over the head with a baseball bat," she grumbled.

Dante decided that he didn't want to know. "So," he said instead. "Figure out anything while you were in the closet?"

Lady squeezed her eyes shut to ward off the pounding headache. "Not much," she said. "Just that all the missing persons are all as good as dead and that whoever is behind this seems to want to set all of the high level demons loose on the world. The gate connects to some sort of limbo."

"Who were you talking about earlier?" Trish cut in.

Lady rolled her eyes to the side, where Trish was a dim blonde shape with patches of black. Confusion was evident on her face at Trish's question. "I wasn't talking about anyone," she said. "The way out banged me up a lot so I was cursing the Fates."

Trish and Dante exchanged a look. "You said you were going to kill him, whoever it was you were talking about," Trish said, persisting. "It sounded like someone sent you back here."

"That was more of a general statement," Lady said. "Nobody sent me back. I got through on my own." She sat up and rubbed her head. The headache seemed to be gone, so she chanced crawling off Dante's not-entirely-uncomfortable-lap-if-it-weren't-for-the-damn-belt-buckles to inspect Kalina Ann, which had crashed into the wall a split second after she had been flung out.

"Never mind," said Dante, waving his hand and standing up. "So, you think you can get out of here on your own two feet?"

"Yeah," said Lady. "My ankle got messed up on the way down, but I can walk." She used Kalina Ann to pull herself upright. "Okay, we need to go find the summoner—the runes they used require the summoner to will them actively into place and maintain them through renewing seals every few days. And before you ask how I know all of that, I got a look at them on the way out of the limbo level," she added.

"You think the summoner would be out there?" Trish jerked her chin in the direction of the parking lot.

"Well, if they are, Silas probably would have found them from the stink alone." Lady hobbled a few steps and glanced at them over her shoulder. "You coming?"

Dante and Trish exchanged another look and Dante shrugged. "Whatever," he said. "Not much to see here—"

"Other than a giant hole in the wall from Dante's antics, of course," Trish said, setting off at a brisk walk to catch up to Lady.

"Why am I not surprised?" Lady said dryly.

Dante watched them disappear down the hallway before he turned to the barrier—

Which was gone. The door and the room beyond had vanished. The connecting hallway he had made earlier was still there. Dante flared his nostrils and took in a deep breath, letting his mouth drop open slightly to help. He had thought when Lady had burst in that he'd smelled something very familiar. With the barrier gone, though, all he could smell was ruined and burned insulation and that icky old-boot odor that always permeated schools after a while. He moved over to the place where the door had been and sniffed a few more times, hopeful. There was nothing.

"Dante, come on!" Trish's voice drifted down the hallway to him. Frustrated, he turned on his heel and left without looking back.

XXX XXX XXX (I want more)

There was chaos in the parking lot when the three made it out. A demon worm the size of a subway train and thick as a school bus was rampaging in the middle of it like a bucking wild horse, contained in a loose spiral by a surprisingly powerful barrier. Dante could see white flashes of light where the worm's massive black body touched the edges of it, accompanied by gusts of the overpowering stench of burning demon flesh. Darting around it was the surprisingly agile Silas, who had pulled out his guns and was taking well-calculated shots at the demon that had it roaring in gurgling fury and pain. 

"Miss Lady, Miss Trish! Mister Dante!" They turned to see James come staggering up to them, covered in bruises and scratches. He halted when he noticed Lady's condition. "Oh no!" he said. "You're hurt! I'd send you to the nurse, but she was the one who did everything—oh dear!" One of the barrier points snapped and crumbled under the pressure of the worm demon and Silas had to dodge a flailing tail end.

"It's a pajama party!" Dante yelled, throwing his arms out wide. "And here I am, all dressed up with nowhere to go!" He took two giant strides, jumped, and rocketed himself through the gap in the barrier and onto the worm's head. 

"No, you brazen idiot! Get out of there!" Silas shouted.

Dante just laughed at him. "Hey, old man, my joints aren't quite as creaky as yours are." He pulled out Rebellion and slammed the tip into the worm's head. Agitated, the worm tried to swing its tail up and over to brush him away, but Dante blocked it with a foot. "Nice try," he said with a smirk. "Thanks for putting your ass in kicking range!" He pulled out Rebellion and jumped over another swipe, landing on one of the middle coils. The worm tried to snap at him with its mandibles, but Dante flipped out of the way and started raining down heavy punishment on it with Ebony and Ivory.

Outside the barrier, Trish slapped down another point and closed the barrier again. "More for everyone else's safety for now," she remarked to a disbelieving Silas.

"You're just setting him up to get killed," he said angrily. "That thing already ate the woman who summoned it and if I hadn't sealed it—"

"Thanks," said Trish. "Although the summoner already got eaten? When did this thing show up?"

"About half an hour ago," Silas said. "I already had to send James to get his extra ammo." He stared at the carnage going on in front of him in a dazed way.

Lady said, "Well, I guess that explains the doors disappearing. She must have released one to summon and then the other one vanished when she died." She leaned heavily on Kalina Ann and scowled when Dante spouted yet another cheesy line at the demon. "He's never going to grow up, honestly," she grumbled.

Just then, Dante snapped all of the barrier points at once and, clinging to the top of the worm's head like a cowboy riding a wild bull, whooped loudly as his new mount tried to shake him off and went bounding towards the school with a roar. Trish groaned in disgust as the worm plowed into the rightmost wing of the school and pretty much destroyed it in seconds. Dante, evidently having flipped off just before it hit the school, landed next to them in a swirl of red leather.

"Whoo! That's how you rock the school house!" he yelled. "Yeah!"

Lady pulled out her pistol and shot him in the back of the head. 

Dante jerked and whirled around, pouting. "What the hell was that for, Lady?" he demanded. She just pointed wordlessly at the school, a third of which now had the corpse of a giant worm sticking out of it with most of that wing collapsed. He grinned at her innocently. "Oops?"

"You are _dead_," she told him.

* * *

_Sent to: devilhunter(at)XXXXXX  
From: hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX  
Subject: DEV-H That was sweet_

_Hey guys, good news. SCHOOL'S CLOSED DUE TO AIDS. See ya next year, suckahs!_

_PS: Lakes: DANTEDANTEDANTEDANTEDANTE_

_PPS: S: gb2/nursing home, old man._

* * *

_Sent to: hotsauce1(at)XXXXXX  
From: XXXXXX  
Subject: RE: DEV-H That was sweet_

_Dante, you idiot. This is coming out of the paycheck. Don't cry too hard when you can't pay the bills this month—you deserve it! Now half of the classes have to be taken to portables because you can't control yourself. I've finally remembered why I usually don't take jobs with you._

_Lady_


	6. The Curse of the Ducky Shorts

Insert default disclaimer disclaiming ownership of all of this

A/N: It's been a while, hasn't it? I speedwrote this for my own amusement and never bothered proofreading it. Then again, I never proofread anything else I write unless it's a 10 page research paper. So, anyone have any interesting requests for short stories?

* * *

The package and the note were both simple, and yet they complicated his life so much more than necessary.

'Trade you', the note said in unfamiliar, sloppy-and-neat-in-turns handwriting.

Devil Bringer's fingers twitched as Nero stared at the neatly pressed duck-patterned boxers. For some strange reason, he kept getting the urge to just run his hands across the fabric, and it was seriously starting to bug him. It was weird to want to stroke a pair of boxers! It was even worse when the boxers weren't even his, you know? Willing himself to ignore his wildly twitching fingers, he pinched a corner of the note in his other hand and lifted it up, looking for the name of the sender. Against the light, he could see a pale watermark: "Devil May Cry; Dante".

"Dante," he growled, shaking the note. "Trade you for what? Yamato?" Sudden movement from the corner of his eye made him look down to find his demonic hand lying reverently on the pair of boxers. When he took a step back, the boxers came with him. "Okay," he said, figuring it out. "You can have either the boxers or the sword, not both at the same time."

His fingers twitched again before reluctantly relaxing and letting the boxers go. Nero peered at the back of his hand suspiciously.

"Nero? What are you doing? What did you get?" Kyrie's voice asked from behind him. Nero glanced over his shoulder at her. When he didn't answer, she moved around him to see for herself and had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing too loudly.

"Dante wants to trade boxers for Yamato, I guess," Nero said, turning back to the note and flipping it over. On the back, in neat cursive, were directions to the Devil May Cry agency. He hmmed. "I think I need to go return these to their original owner," he decided.

Kyrie clasped her hands together and smiled. "It would be nice to see Dante again," she said. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Nero snorted. "I didn't think we'd ever meet again after that mess. He just walked off, trying to look cool." He handed Kyrie the note. "Of course, sending me a pair of ducky shorts totally just destroyed the image I had of him—whoa!" He almost fell over when Devil Bringer decided it couldn't be away from the boxers any longer and shot out to grab them, dragging Nero along with it. "What the hell is _with_ this thing?" Nero demanded. "No! No boxers! Stop trying to embarrass me!" Devil Bringer was unrepentant and just clutched the boxers tighter when Nero tried to pull them away.

Kyrie watched him struggle with his arm for a moment before she tentatively said, "Maybe we should check with Dante anyway, if it's reacting on its own?"

"That's it! Exorcism time!" Nero yelled, pulling out a fully loaded Blue Rose and aiming at Devil Bringer. "I don't know what freaky ghost got hold of my arm, but there is no way I'm going to walk around holding a pair of duck-patterned underpants!" Kyrie clapped her hands over her ears as he pulled the trigger. The bullet ricocheted off Devil Bringer and took out one of the florescent lights in the ceiling. Devil Bringer promptly dropped the boxers and behaved itself. Nero shook it out and kicked the boxers as far away from him as he could. "Okay, you're right," he said to Kyrie. "I need to go talk to Dante." He shot the boxers a dirty look. "Now I just need to figure out how to get those back to him without shooting myself again."

In the end, Kyrie solved the problem by picking the boxers up and neatly folding them and putting them in the duffel bag she packed for the trip. Nero, when he wasn't throwing things he was sure would pass security check into a backpack, whacked Devil Bringer on the edge of his dresser to try and get it to work again. It refused to Snatch far away objects and the blue glow, normally bright enough to work as a nightlight, had dimmed to a depressing glimmer that could barely compete with a flashlight whose battery was running low. Maybe it was Nero's imagination, but he was sure it brightened up hopefully around Kyrie, the last known possessor of the ducky shorts, and dimmed when she clearly had nothing in her hands. He made sure to avoid Kyrie's duffel bag when they finally got onto the boat that would ferry them to the main continent, and grimly pretended it didn't exist when their cab driver loaded their luggage in the cab's trunk.

It was a good thing Kyrie found the whole situation funny, otherwise Nero would have felt guilty about being an ass and not helping her carry anything. The cab driver dropped them off a block from their destination ("Sorry, them back roads are still under construction from some explosion or other.") and they walked through a few dingy back streets before arriving in front of a building with a dirty brick façade and a dimmed neon sign proclaiming "Devil May Cry".

"Wait," said Nero when Kyrie made to knock on the door. "I've got a better idea." He pulled out Blue Rose and sent Dante his version of a knock: a bullet straight through the peephole of the door and presumably to the other side of the room.

Kyrie covered her mouth with her hands in shock until they heard footsteps treading heavily towards them. Dante, a bit of blood dripping down the end of his long nose, pulled the door open and glared. "Hey, kid," he said. "Whatever happened to knocking the old fashioned way?"

Nero raised his eyebrows at Dante. "Whatever happened to letting me hang on to Yamato?" he retorted.

Dante pressed his lips together in thought for a second before waving them inside. Nero purposely scuffed his shoes on the wooden floor and glanced around at all the weapons hanging in the lobby-slash-office set-up. "Yeah, you can keep it, kid. I told you that before," Dante said, sitting down in his chair and swinging his feet onto the desk.

"So why those?" Nero asked, pointing at the boxers, which Kyrie had pulled out.

Dante grinned when he saw them. "Just a little gift," he said. "And you gotta trade me _baby pictures_." He sent Kyrie a saucy wink that made her duck behind Nero.

Nero glowered at him. "You could have said in the note," he spat.

"Didn't I?" Dante didn't seem very concerned.

"Whatever. That's not why we're here." Nero held a now brightly glowing Devil Bringer up. "This is why."

Dante gave the arm a quick once-over. "Looks fine to me," he said. "Dandy and glowing and ready to kick some ass."

"That's only because it can see the boxers," said Nero.

"...wait, what?" Dante got up and came over to look at it more closely. "No eyes," he said, rubbing his chin.

"Sense," Nero corrected himself. "It's been refusing to work ever since you sent those stupid boxers—where'd you get them from, anyway?"

Dante looked surprised. "Well, damn!" he said. "Actually, my brother used to wear boxers like that..." He grinned again. "Maybe it wants you to wear them," he suggested.

Nero yelled, "No way!" just as Devil Bringer finally couldn't resist any longer and went for them. Kyrie found her hand completely covered by Devil Bringer's much larger one, its fingers gently wrapped around her wrist and the boxers as well. Nero, who had been forced to put his other arm around Kyrie's shoulders to keep from falling over, growled unintelligibly.

"Aww, that's so sweet," Dante said. "Don't let me interrupt you lovebirds or anything." He sat back down at the desk and settled in, looking as if he were about to watch a show.

"This ain't funny! My arm's possessed!" Nero said loudly.

Dante laughed. "Wear the ducky shorts, kid," he said. "If you're lucky, it won't stick itself down your pants to pet them." He wagged his thumb behind him at the clearly labeled bathroom door. "Feel free to change and see how they feel."

"What? Just like that? Are you sure the universe isn't going to explode or anything because my arm's got a life of its own?" Nero wrinkled his nose at the thought of wearing the boxers.

"Nah, it hasn't got a life of its own," said Dante. "It just has some instinctual urges that are hard to deny...such as the urge to don ducky shorts."

Nero blew air through his nose in exasperation and gave in. "Fine!" he snapped. "I'll wear them!" He glared at Devil Bringer, which still had its fingers around Kyrie's wrist. "Let go of her!"

For a moment, he thought it wasn't going to work. Then Devil Bringer relaxed and let him work his arm again. He picked up the boxers and vanished into the bathroom, wanting to get the whole thing over with. As he changed, he could hear Dante making relatively friendly (for Dante) small talk with Kyrie, who spent most of the conversation giggling at him politely. Annoyed, he yanked his pants back on and bolted out of the bathroom, feeling like his face was going to pop with all the blood rushing to it. The cotton was certainly a change from... Well, anyway, he stood still and waited for Devil Bringer to do something embarrassing.

A minute passed. Nothing happened. Devil Bringer glowed its usual bright blue and stayed relaxed at his side now that he wasn't moving it.

Nero punched Dante when he had the gall to look disappointed.


End file.
